


as the moon rises

by rhenna



Series: HP prompt drabbles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M, Shakespeare Quotations, Wolfsbane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhenna/pseuds/rhenna
Summary: Severus drops off Remus' Wolfsbane and is invited inside for tea.





	as the moon rises

Remus leans against the door frame as he accepts the obsidian chalice from Severus' long fingers, his hand just brushing pale, cold fingers before Snape pulls back quickly and gracefully. Remus half expects him to hiss -- it would match the look of undisguised disgust on his face.

"Care to come in for a drink, Severus?" Remus asks, ever amicable and polite. His head is slightly lowered, a small, calm smile fixed into place as he stares down into the depths of the Wolfsbane. "I can prepare tea, of course." Severus is perhaps not the best company, even on lonely nights such as these, but beggars cannot be choosers: Remus knows that if he does not find something to occupy his mind for at least a little while, the hours until the change will drag on unbearably slowly. He also knows that it is during these times when the night stretches impossibly long in front of them that they can probably best understand each other.

Severus sweeps more than walks inside, brushing past Remus haughtily, deigning not to respond. Remus gestures to two shabby armchairs in front of a small, old coffee table, the best he has to offer his darkly fickle guest. He sets down the Arcanum that is the potion Severus delivers to him each month, moving into the kitchen to prepare the tea. The other has seated himself, glancing around with his mouth quirked down in a grimace, his distaste for werewolf living quarters much apparent.

Remus is making tea the muggle way, waiting for a whistle before taking the piping hot kettle off the flame. He gathers two mugs together and sets the tea on the table, serving Severus before himself. They drink in silence, the soft clink of ceramics against wood the only sound to break through the thick cloud of still unresolved tension. It's almost a moment of solidarity, Remus thinks. Almost. But the truth of the matter is that they are only sharing a drink together because it is better than drinking alone.

Their cups are empty now, and the near-oppressive quiet still permeates the air around them. There is nothing either has reason to say to the other, though logic is the last thing that truly matters when there might be a reason Snape is staying longer than he absolutely has to. But then, as he would tell you himself, there is nothing Snape has to do, and he owes no one any explanations for his actions. But then, quicker than the time it takes to blink, Severus is at the door, Remus turning away and staring back into the dark, foreboding proof of the potions master's skill.

"What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within," Remus quotes, hand making a half-hearted gesture in the air, his back still facing Snape. He lamely wishes that he had offered Severus a game of chess or some similar nicety, on the off chance that it might have made him linger longer. As soon as the door closes behind him, Remus knows that every minute will seem an eternity.

"Shakespeare, how fitting," sneers Severus, and sweeps out the door, closing it with a bang. Remus idly wonders if Snape will stay late again next month. Outside, the full moon laughs in his face.


End file.
